February 4th, 2003 - 4:38 a.m.

An event of aeons ago, sandwiching interruption.

It is an event of intriguing scandal when a queen kneels for a peasant.

"Who was that?" cackles the ostrich.

"A person of no real import."

"You importer of lies," the bird accuses.

"I have no such ports for such, and thus duty of a most hideous handsomeness was paid."

"Yes, the mortgage was great, and shall be paid gauged upon mortality," rasps the ostrich.

"But my morality compels me to gage my immortality as a bauble."

"Morality? Is to..." the ostrich begins.

"You fool, and you the fowl! Such webs of words you weave," hisses the brown haired girl in white dress and customary blue ribbon.

"You clich�! Go tend to your hair. Though the brush must be hard to find due to your fascination with the bristles," spits the ostrich, "Go tend to, little Bo Peep. Preoccupation with bristlings are not needed here."

Ah, when a queen, all humbled upon her knees, still proud. The peasant ignores all with ignorant indignation. A queen, never a beggar; now panhandling for response.

But see, she rises, lost. But still, as always, triumphant.

N.

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